


thumb sucker

by alldamianwayne



Series: thumbsucker verse [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Background Relationships, Bad Parent Talia al Ghul, Childhood Trauma, Damian Wayne-centric, Hurt Damian Wayne, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd, Minor Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Other, Protective Jason Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27966965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alldamianwayne/pseuds/alldamianwayne
Summary: a series of moments that happen chronologically in Damian Wayne's life that help him get accustomed to age regression, using it to help regain the childhood he lost
Relationships: Damian Wayne & Joseph Wilson, Damian Wayne & Slade Wilson, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Kyle Rayner & Damian Wayne, Roy Harper & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Series: thumbsucker verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048270
Comments: 18
Kudos: 137





	1. Damian Wayne and Tim Drake / Talia Al Ghul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian can only handle a benched and frustrated Tim Drake for so long before he needs a moment to himself, resulting in a moment where he reflect on two moments from his past
> 
> thumb sucking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone who has seen me write on twitter probably knows how much i love exploring Damian's trauma and this is going to be around that through the lens of age regression, these chapters are going to be more focused on Damian slowly getting comfortable with being vulnerable through his relationship with different characters, while the larger series will focus on him in a more secure arrangement
> 
> this fic involves the rough treatment of a young Damian Wayne while living with the League of Assassins, I don't think its particularly graphic but I've put it as a forewarning that there's more or less torture involved

It was tense and despite their relationship being tenuous at best, they hadn’t argued quite this bad in some time now. Over two weeks ago Tim injured himself in a fight on patrol, making Bruce bar him from active duty and bench him until he was fully healed. A hypocritical move given the Batman never takes a moment to heal himself but he has always shown much more care when it comes to his children healing then whatever happens to himself.

Being couped up meant he was getting antsy and gladly seemed to provoke as many argument as he could out of anyone who passes by him. Unfortunately for Damian who had found himself deep in case work more often than out in the field recently, had to bear the brunt of Tim’s current attitude and after days of back and forth it all exploded. However, if you asked Damian, he couldn’t even quite remember what was said.

All he would be able to remember was the horrible feeling swelling up inside of his chest, skin feeling hot – too hot, so hot it made him want to claw it off and free himself from the suffocating heat. He could hear it, ringing clear in his head, the sound of Tim mocking him as he left the batcave to escape the confrontation that was taking too much out of him. Taking as many steps as he could at a time to escape the words that cut at him, a sensitive pain.

There had probably been more to say between them, but Alfred had come down and intervened, something awfully knowing in his eyes as he asked Damian to go upstairs. Maybe he could see the tears threatening to fall as he slipped through hallways trying to get to his bedroom. Maybe he could see the small but harsh indentations in his palms from where he had curled his nails in, trying to will himself to calm down, to keep it inside.

Whatever he saw had convinced him enough not to follow him to his room, door closing without a slam because surprisingly he was not in the mood for dramatic shows of emotion. He had been weary for days now, piling over documents and files to help out his father. There had been short snippets of sleep caught every few hours, it had been a long time, probably too long since he consumed something that wasn’t just water.

He truly gets it, if he had been in Tim’s position, he probably would have needled at everyone’s nerves as well. Damian was a quick and easy target especially in this condition, he gets why Tim drove him to it, but it still made him feel sick. The idea that after all these years all it took to get him to break was one difficult day at the end of a very tiring few weeks. Questioning if this was truly how weak his resolve was or if Tim had gotten better with his words. 

Within the safety of his bedroom, he found himself curled up on his bed. Heavy blanketed covers hastily thrown over him, securely wrapped around him to shield him from the view of anyone who might walk in. Although his body already ran awfully hot, the restrictive heat between his bed sheets and his blanket felt like a new found comfort that he basked in. Instead of spreading out in the comfort he huddled himself into a close ball.

Right hand grasped tightly on the bunched-up pyjama shirt he had put on before going down into the cave. He’d woken up from one of his longer naps and wanted to get more work in. To Tim it probably made him look more childish than ever. A small target draped in pyjamas covered in little clouds and stars, messy hair, and dark marks under his eyes. The pyjamas had been a gift from Dick who hadn’t been able to help himself from squishing Damian’s cheeks and calling him adorable.

Now his left hand was raised to his face, thumb placed in his mouth and his forefinger absentmindedly stroking along his skin lightly to calm himself down. The confrontation slowly slipping from his mind as he lulled himself into a gentle state of contentless and comfort, eyelids lowered slightly as he vacantly stares into the space between himself and the blanket. From the weight of the blanket to the weight of his thumb, he felt grounded.

Curling up around himself tighter as he continues to come down from his earlier sense of panic, everyone else was out of the Manor besides the three of them and he didn’t imagine anyone was going to come up here any time soon. He hadn’t locked his door in his haste to hide but he hoped it wasn’t needed, even if he had locked it shut after he entered any motivated family member would find their way inside. 

Before coming all the way to Gotham, he had only done this twice before and both of those times had ended painfully for him. Aching with a phantom pain as he recalled the first, he had ever dared to seek out such a childish comfort. At the time he had still been young enough for Talia to still have a nursemaid in her employ, keeping her around to tend to the basic necessities of childhood that she didn’t stretch her hand out to do herself.

Her name had been Shafyaa and unfortunately, she had been young, a little to protective of the curly haired boy toddling around in shoes that were a little two big wielding swords that were too big for his small grip. Searching around, she had found him finally where he had hauled himself up and hidden himself within a small compartment. Thumb logged into his mouth like it would keep his pained whines from spilling out.

Picking him up gently she could see the scrape across his cheek and the bruise blooming across his wrist, she had never felt as brave as she had in that moment. Confronting Talia had been a dreadfully ill thought idea, but she had felt passionate enough to cross the line, ignoring every alarm bell screaming in her head to stop the insolence. The woman had, with some stretch of the imagination, believed she could make a difference and sway Talia Al Ghul.

“Miss Talia, he is sore and tired from practice, you needn’t train a boy so young with such a firm hand.”

The fact that she had dared to make a request to the daughter of the demon, asking for a break to allow Damian a moment to heal and to unwind like a child deserves had sent Talia into a controlled fit of rage. How dare another woman tell her how to raise her own son? It was what she said as she slit the woman’s throat, almost cutting her head clean off and watching as the red spilled from the wound down her white garments.

It was horrific but Damian had watched from where he now clutched at his mother’s skirts, thumb as far away from his mouth as he could manage as he watched with rapt attention. Shafyaa had kissed his cheeks and whipped his tears away, watched him spin around and clap joyfully in the safety of his bedroom, had praised every accomplishment he made with such reverence. Now she lay across the training floor with vacant eyes and a slowly chilling body.

As the blood pooled, Damian was thrust out into the middle to begin the training that should have started an hour ago, feet slipping on the blood as he defended himself. Moving with the slowly refined grace of a beginner but it was difficult with the blood, the people across from him had more practise in situations like this. He had been injured but more than anything he had never complained about training after that.

Ending every day with a terrible exhaustion that he never had the ability to even think about how bruised his elbows were from failed landings, how rough his knuckles felt where they brushed against the scars on his legs. Talia pushed his body so far until he was vomiting before he could even make it back to his bedroom, barely remembering how he made it back in one piece each night. The routine got more bearable after a while and he revelled in never having a moment to sit with those thoughts. 

Now, for Damian, the second time was far worse but happened when he was slightly older. A child who should have known better than to show such weakness especially when everyone had been on such high alert. He had started the day off training with Lady Shiva who met his moves with a practised ease that Damian hoped he could mimic one day, watching her instruct his next moves always took his breathe away, she had such skill and grace.

Whenever she came by and had a moment to spare, he would request her presence, taking her away for hours at a time to train by his side as if someone of her position should be spending time shadowing a small child. He hadn’t known at the time why her visit became more frequent, Damian was honestly just elated to have someone skilled move his arms into place and take him seriously but with a gentle protectiveness, instead of beating him bloody the first chance they get.

Although at the time he hadn’t known why her visits became more frequent. He certainly came to know when he saw his grandfather for the first time. Sitting on his throne with his daughter to the left, looking out like a man who already had all the secrets to the universe revealed to him yet still waited to learn more. Ra’s Al Ghul has a harsh glare and a flat line to his mouth that set Damian on edge the instant he walked into the room.

It was obvious that he would wear the finest silks and materials as the head of their organization but seeing the man before him felt like he had stepped over the line himself, into some fantasy. This man had been cheating death longer than Damian had even been a thought swimming around in his mother’s head. Yet the man who had seen everything, cheated death to come back an immeasurable amount of times, still had the ability to looked bored at what life presented him.

Damian was aware that he could never be held above his mother and certainly not his grandfather, but he had arrogantly or more accurately, immaturely, believed that he would be treated with some essence of pride. The belief that all his training before today, all that blood and sweat would mean anything to a man who had watched humans for decades. Except all Ra’s Al Ghul did was lower his head to look at the state of his grandson once.

Only once did his cold calculating eyes lower themselves from his raised gaze, not even sparing a single thought before he was demanding his people ‘strip it of its fine clothes and toss it into the lowered arena to prove itself’. A hush fell over everyone as the demand was made. It was clear to everyone present that Damian had just been publicly dishonoured in that moment, and that if they acknowledged Ra’s words that would mean acknowledging Damian as only an ‘it’.

He wanted to complain, to childishly fault his grandfather for belittling him and mistreating him when he didn’t even know him. How could he make him seem so small and insignificant when he had no idea what he has accomplished, then again Damian assumes that is what the lower arena is for. There was no time for any fight to reach his throat as his mother mimicked the lowered gaze and stared at him, harder than he had ever experienced.

Repeating the same demands in a higher pitch but no less cruel, a dismissive wave of her hands sending the people scattered all across the room to begin preparations. Fingers glittered with rings adorned by the finest stones, she held herself in clothes that matched the greatness of her own father, more stones decorating jewellery hanging around her hips and her ankle. Her back was straighter, head held higher than ever, she was not going to be merciful tonight.

Playing in the arena was always harsh, men behaved down there like wild animals and Damian rarely ever needed to grace those floors. He had come far enough that proving himself among common folk was far below him and even Talia never asked it of him, even when he was acting out in his worst moments. Now Ra’s Al Ghul wanted to test his grandson out himself, watch his bones bend and grip break under the strength of his best men.

It had been played against him from the start, where common men usually stood there were men with years of experienced etched into their stances and their skin. Deep wounds that they had learnt from and they attacked with an insistence that made Damian believed they had been promised something if they won or at least if they made it hurt to the satisfaction of the Demon’s Head. What followed the arena was a visit to their modest infirmary.

He found himself laying there with a bruise spanning from his right hip to the top of his right ribcage, his left ear had been bleeding earlier and he could no longer hear out of it correctly. One of his legs had been broken and then set incorrectly but he could barely figure out which leg felt the worst with how much pain his brain was screaming at him. Actually, it might have been himself who was screaming out in pain with how raw and painful his throat felt.

Something had been shattered along his spine and his head had fallen with sickening crack, breaking his skill in at least two places. Orders were to keep him alive, given to the nurse by Ra’s Al Ghul himself who had only walked in once and it was to grimace, probably holding back the urge to spit in disgust at Damian. Until he deemed his punishment over with enough suffering sustained, only then would he be dipped into the Lazarus Pit and healed.

They couldn’t have a fault heir left laying useless on an outstretched medical bed after all. As night fell dauntingly over him like a wicked promise, he woke up from a fitful sleep that made his head pound worse than it was restoring him. In that moment he had made the horrible decision to raise his hand to his mouth, once more seeking out such a childish comfort that had been taken from him years earlier without it ever being brought up by his mother.

When Talia had walked in for the first time herself to see her son curled up as best he could, she forced him to sit himself up and placed both of his hands on a table rolled over to fit just above his lap over the bed. She didn’t stop beating his hands until he sat there silently, tears had long since dried up from where they had been rolling down his flushed cheeks. His throat, hoarse from screaming earlier only got rawer, no longer even buckled as he kept the pain to himself.

Finally, when the time came for him to be restored, he left the pit with a half-crazed mind but the understanding that he had long since come to a decision. After that he would never be weak enough to be beaten or vulnerable ever again. Not by his grandfather, not by his mother and especially not by anyone who walked around the hallways like they belonged among the Al Ghul family. Never since that last moment had he ever sought comfort or even desired comfort.

Especially not in the way that had called out to him as a child. Up until he found himself in Gotham to stay with a family that trained him hard but reminded him to eat, gave him a bed that he could sleep in without fear. Something about Gotham allowed his insecurities to begin bubbling up to the surface once more but he didn’t quite fear retribution for them, tucking them in close to his heart he began slowly opening himself up to his vulnerabilities.

As Dick had told him while staring down Bruce (who was pretending not to notice), cowl pushed back while typing away at the back computer. Wince hidden behind gritted teeth as he sat himself down, standing up becoming too tiring for him in that moment. Dick told him that he didn’t need to hide everything and that expressing himself was healthy, he was safe here and wouldn’t be beaten for being weak or tired or scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my Twitter ♡](https://twitter.com/alldamianwayne?s=09)


	2. damian Wayne and Joey Wilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slade died and left behind a broken boy who Joey is now responsible for, even if he doesn't know what hes doing with the kid
> 
> plushies | finger painting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one probably reads a lot more inconsistently paced and its because I found it alarmingly hard to write Joey being vulnerable while also responsible and i wanted to get it completed instead of continuing to second guess myself

One hand raised and covered in wet warm orange coloured paint while the other hand lay against the table, dried blue pain still covering his fingers in light strokes. If Rose could see him now, she would probably tease him, sitting at a low table with scattered pieces of paper decorated by simple finger paintings like he’s still a child. He couldn’t even imagine what Slade would say if he saw him now, helping the young boy sitting next to him roll his sleeves back up.

Whatever Slade would or would not think doesn’t matter now, he was killed during the confrontation days back with the Teen Titans. Still a raw sore wound that Joey has since taken to mostly ignoring in favour of not driving himself crazy, at first, he had been angry but there were few people besides himself who he could even turn to, to blame. Then came the jealousy when he remembered a phone call from only a day or so prior to his death ‘watch out for the kid if I die’.

Jealousy had twisted his heart even more than his father’s death had because he had once again been reminded that Slade was putting someone else above him. He already had to feel inferior to Grant who wasn’t even alive anymore and now Damian had somehow won his fathers attention. It simmered out once he made the decision to actually go see Damian, they had interacted a few times in the past even recently, but he had never really seen him face to face.

Shorter than he expects with the immense bravado the kid speaks with, grease streaked across his cheek as he diligently evolves the inner working of the vehicle in front of him. Eyes focused on the materials being shifted and tightened in front of him, but Joey was aware his presence had already been noticed. Tongue poking out from his mouth and a cute focused frown pulling down his eyebrows, without shifting his attention he tried to reach backwards for another tool.

Bringing it into his reach made Damian shift his attention from the vehicle to Joey. Clearly the kid was trying to work out what he was doing there, whether or not he had to be weary in case the conversation went less than pleasantly. When he walked in, he had still had the simmering itchy feeling of jealousy clawing up his throat but looking at this kid, standing alone trying to work through his thoughts and feelings by keeping his hands busy, he couldn’t blame him.

Instead of a screaming match with words neither of them truly mean, thrown at each other to disguise their own heart, Joey invited Damian to go shopping. Slade had commented on their short food supply last time he was in here so what better time than now to go out and do it. Damian tried to explain that he pays someone to do it for him, but Joey wouldn’t listen, dragging him away from machinery and clunking metal back up to the higher floors.

With the kind of superhero company, they keep in the Teen Titans, emphasis on the speedsters, there is a never-ending list of food they need to bring home. The list Damian writes up, with his neat penmanship that screams rich and influential background, takes forever and is double sided. Damian also tries to offer himself up as the driver because he has more years of driving experience, but Joey threatens to put him in a car seat, only then does he stop.

They were about five steps into the grocery store before Joey realized Damian had never stepped foot into one of these stores himself and although he desperately wanted to tease, Damian genuinely looked worryingly out of his element. Hiding behind Joey to avoid walking into people, one of his hands tangled in the back of Joey’s shirt and gripping tight so they wouldn’t be separated. It was adorable but alarmingly worrying. 

Made him seriously wonder if anyone else knew how badly Damian hated public spaces and that his ‘I’ll just pay someone to go out for me’ attitude probably stems from him not wanting to leave more than having money to throw around. Every time Joey would stop to look through the shelves Damian would rest his head on Joey’s lower back and then would raise it to look around when they started moving, never really being able to settle for long. 

There is an anxiety in him which Joey wants to dispel, he didn’t bring him out to the shops to torture him after all. Joey brought him out because he knows what he would want for himself, with so many similarities between them it made it easy to realize just inviting Damian places and including him would make him feel more loved and noticed. It made him feel a little sick, knowing Slade picked up on these things in Damian but never in his own son but that wasn’t Damian’s fault.

Damian didn’t even seem to be aware of his own anxieties (or is ignoring them for them) let alone what to do about them, always acting stronger in ways that Joey would never be able to achieve despite being much older. While walking down the isle with toys stretched across shelves to drag parents into spending money on kids who are bored with seeing vegetables and tinned foods, Joey noticed that Damian’s eyes kept straying.

No longer in the anxious way he was trying to keep track of every single person walking around them, he was openly staring and admiring one of the plush animals dangling from a stand. It was now behind them and Joey caught Damian’s eye when he turned back to Joey, wide and the most childlike sparkle to them that he had ever seen. Fists flexing where they were still gripping his shirt, like he had to anchor himself from running over and grabbing the one he had his eye on.

“You know, if you want to grab one you can.”

“I don’t need something so childish, Joseph.”

“You might not need it, but you can want it.”

The distinction made Damian pout as he turned his eyes back on the plushies all dangling, some of them coloured artificial and unrealistically bright colours of pinks and purples while others were more accurate to the animals colouring. For the first time since he grabbed the trolley as they walked in, Damian let go of his shirt and walked over to the stand by himself. Joey thought he might take a minute to decide but his gaze was sure and fixed on a lightly coloured fox.

Blondish almost white in colour with careful wide eyes and a textured nose, it was small enough to fit comfortably in Damian’s hands as he brought it over like a careful prize he had won. The new addition of the fox seemed to settle him greatly, grounding him in the moment so he was confident enough to hold the shopping list and lead the way. Even if he shot his hand back to grip lightly at Joey’s sleeve, dragging him along, he thought it was progress.

While the list had been greatly practical with the right kinds of vegetables, meats, fruits, and other ingredients to sustain a healthy diet for all of the team members, Joey kept slipping in different things he thought children deserved to have. All the food was paid for on a card that probably held more money on it than Joey would ever come into contact with in his life, but Joey went out of his way to purchase a few things for Damian with his own meagre card and decent savings.

It’s how Damian found himself buckled into the passenger seat of the car sipping from a pink milk cartoon, strawberry flavoured with a pink cow pictured on either side. He was careful during the entire trip not to spill any on the fox, whose name is Laurent and whose name is apparently very important because if you refer to Laurent as ‘it’, Damian becomes grumpy. A lesson he quickly learnt when he said: “move it so I can buckle you in properly”.

“Good?”

Taking him back out of his thoughts, Joey looks to his side to see Damian sitting there holding up yet another piece of paper. One of the other things he had bought for Damian was a simple collection of children’s paint and as they had no paintbrushes on hand, they would do some finger painting. It had been his plan all along and not having paintbrushes definitely helped to sell the point, well after Joey had to explain what finger painting entailed.

For someone who could jump off of buildings without firing his grappling hook, letting himself fall and looking at himself in the rush of windows passing him by before shooting up last minute. Damian was awfully worried about using his hands to paint, overthinking the idea of his artwork not being able to come out perfect. After being reassured by Joey, he allowed his hands to be painted to create a simple butterfly and giggled at the feeling of cold paint on his palms.

Now he had moved around some pastel pinks and forest greens on his page, there was an almost distant look in his eyes that had worried Joey at first. Laurent was sitting a safe distance away from the paint but close enough that Damian didn’t whine about his plushie being taken from him. This was just Damian finally being able to express a side of him not a lot of people knew how to bring out of him, a childish lilt to his voice as he looked up expectedly for praise.

“Looks wonderful sweetheart.”

He had undoubtedly been jealous of Damian at the beginning but there was a certain catharises from doing for Damian what he wished would be done for him. Guiding Damian through painting a picture Joey would be more than honoured to have framed and hung up in his apartment, where they were currently situated. They had dropped off and let Wally unpack all the food into the cabinets and fridge before Damian had been whisked away again. 

Although Terrance had been there when they arrived, he made them drinks before excusing himself, letting them have the apartment to themselves after a sweet good bye kiss. Damian had his full attention after that, praising every twist of his wrist and swirl from the tip of his finger, every time he mixed colours to create new shades or new colours Damian would brighten up with delight. There's something lovely about watching him act young.

“For you.”

On the paper was as close to accurate as you could get with a fingerpainted family portrait. There was a smudge of colours that represented Rose, some other colours that represented himself as Damian continued to point out each person. Next, he pointed to the taller man next to Joey who was meant to be Deathstroke who was probably meant to be holding his hand and then onto Damian who was the smallest swirl of colours on the page.

In his hand he could only imagine the softest smudge of paint was meant to be his new plushie Laurent who he was now inseparable from. Demanding, childishly, that he be brought along as they moved into the bathroom to wash the paints off their hands and with some manoeuvring, he was brought with them without getting paint splattered over the pretty fur. Listening to Damian talk to Laurent in a quiet voice as they walk through the apartment, held gently in his hands.

Soft voice carrying them back down the hallway into the living room where he took about thirty seconds to sit down on the couch and fall asleep, Joey hadn’t even had the chance to turn something on the television for him. Letting Damian fall against his shoulder sleepily as he sat himself down next to him on the couch, Joey found himself content with sitting there as long as it took for Damian to have a well-deserved nap.

The tinkering with vehicles and throwing himself into case after case between the Teen Titans and his own family of vigilantes could only let him express so much of what he keeps bottled inside. Finally allowing himself to explore gentler sides of expression was somehow as exhausting for him as things that result in a bloodied lip and a bruise swelling his ribs. Joey just hoped he could take it at his own pace and find somewhere safe to express himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my Twitter ♡](https://twitter.com/alldamianwayne?s=09)


	3. Damian Wayne and Jason Todd (Roy Harper / Kyle Rayner)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a traumatic memory makes Damian act before he can think, unable to find shelter with Bruce he seeks another place to stay
> 
> bath time | pillow fort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer than the other two because I tend to write a lot when I torture Damian and putting him alongside Jason but it might not be too cohesive because i wrote it over a few days and I tend to forget how i was writing before but hopefully its fine
> 
> to celebrate passing 1000 hits I want peoples suggestions for what to include on the final chapter! go to my Twitter, my Curiouscat or even the comments here and met me know some activities you want to see him do (hint: itll be written with Slade as the focus)

He had done this before only recently, riding his motorcycle while his vision swam in and out of focus while his head pounded. It had been after his destructive encounter with the Red Hood and one of his weaker moments of vulnerability, the encounter hadn’t ended well, and he had found himself barely being able to hold on as he drove home. Back then it had been the pain that made his grip loose and his body ache, coughing up blood as he slipped off of the vehicle.

Now there was a single sense of floaty airiness to his mind that was threatening to take all his functioning thoughts away. Although he couldn’t really feel much of anything, he had a feeling there were tears running down his cheeks, hands gripping the handles too tight to wipe them away. With the hour what it was the traffic wasn’t horrible and he knew his way around through short cuts and less populated areas. 

Damian couldn’t possibly go back to his father the way he was, sitting in the batcave pouring over some case that had been taking substantial amounts of his focus to crack. His father already has enough weighing on his shoulders, so he didn’t need Damian collapsing in the batcave, shivering, and sobbing like some novice who hadn’t yet faced down their first enemy. There had been enough men, strong men, in Damian’s life that he had taken down ‘novice’ to be a long since abandoned title.

Except he had felt entirely incapable of fighting back at the warehouse. There had been between twenty to thirty hired men protecting some delivery that would never go through and Damian had been disadvantaged against worse odds and come out victorious. Damian had watched them fall at his feet as he took them down, keeping his body moving. Agile as he flipped over men with guns and danced around men with raised fists.

Five men stood in his path of destruction with a panting and slightly worn-down Damian facing off against them, his odds were still decent, but his mind had already moved past his victory to think about what happens next. Unfortunately, that moment occurred as a man started rushing Damian with a sword wielded just about chest height on Damian. The idea made his knees weak and his grip falter on his own sword, he felt incapable of protecting himself.

Mind shooting back to the moment where he stood there, ten years old desperately screaming for his mother and father to get along. Ten years old and fighting his rapidly aged clone who sought nothing but death like he once did. Despite the odds he kept pushing because the lives of people like Richard were at risk and he had to keep the Heretic’s attention on himself, Nightwing had been so kind to him that it was the least he could do for him.

Ten years old and he was outnumbered with archers raining arrows down at him, his clone finally finishing the job with a sword hoisting his smaller body into the air. Choking on his last few intakes of breath as the blood made him feel like he was drowning, a feeling he was long since familiar with given his training in the League of Assassins. No training could save him in that moment as he felt nothing but hopeless fear, grasping at the sword that killed him.

As the horrible memories started filtering from his mind, his eyesight came back to him and all he could see was red. Sword clattered to the ground a meter away, splattered with blood that trailed over to the slumped over body. Both his arms were severed just below the elbow and there was already a substantial pool of blood spreading around the nameless man, his eyes wide as sweat begins to drench his skin quickly paling skin. 

Scream caught in his throat as he watched the blood, the man’s blood, dripping from the edge of his own blade. Caught in the horrendous light of the warehouse. Through the slick blood he could see his eyes reflected back at him except he looked significantly more like his twin, a vicious glint to his eyes that made him double over himself and vomit. Almost slipping in the blood, Damian contacted the police as he got himself out.

The ride through the streets had been uncomfortable and the cooling reminder of blood on his skin made him think about the man, life draining out of him as he waited for the police to save him. His clothes were soaked in it, splashed when he had struck the man and taken the threat away with quick precise strokes that would even have his mother praising him. Grip white against the handlebars but all he could see is the blood, heavy like it was weighing him down physically and mentally.

Bruce was simply not an option especially not after the horrendous acts that had befallen him, what felt like hours ago. It was selfish after what he had done to hurt his relationship with Jason, but he needed somewhere to lay low, assess himself and recover. The closest available place being one of the safehouses Jason owns that is further away from the more populated areas, not a single person saw him pull up.

Not wanting to risk going through the building, Robin fired his grappling hook up and with an unfortunately slippery grip, made his way up to the window. Despite years of training there was not a single thought passed for the security alarms attached to the entry ways, his mind was almost entirely vacant of thought. Ears ringing and tears refusing to stop welling up, running over and down his cheeks when they became too much.

He had sustained minor injuries earlier in the fight but when he walked into the bathroom, all but trailing blood along the wall and across the floor, he couldn’t think of anything. Collapsing over the sink as he vomits once again, static droning in his mind making it harder for him to maintain an equilibrium and stay upright. Everything tilted and he was on the floor, just missing the bathtub which he almost took himself out on.

Over stimulated by all the noises bouncing around inside his own head, he hadn’t heard the whining noise bouncing off of the bathroom walls let alone the front door which got thrown open. Even if he was more cognizant, he wouldn’t possibly admit to being the source of the whining noise, breath coming out quicker and shorter. Vision going from swimming shapes and lights to enveloping him in darkness, making Damian attempt to scramble up and look around blindly.

If during a fight he found himself restricted of one of his senses, the others were meant to fill in for him to ground him and make him more centre. With his hands covered in blood, his ears ringing until nothing else could be heard above the noise and sight completely taken from him, Damian was left completely vulnerable. Now he could no longer remember where he was, had he really made it to the safehouse or was he still at the warehouse?

Was he surrounded by men and he didn’t know it, where they circling around him like vultures while he desperately tried to grip at anything and everything? Voice stopping in his throat as a sob overtook him, wanting to scream and cry out for help except there was nobody to hear him. Nobody near him would be friendly and he couldn’t ask for their help. Hands whipping out blindly as he tries desperately to find the safest corner of the room to hide himself in.

Curling up into a ball under the sink next to the bathtub, shivering so bad his teeth were rattling against each other and his bones were beginning to ache. In serious states of stress Damian’s body always seemed to overload until it became too much and just as he was sucking in massive gulping breathes, trying to settle himself the bathroom door flew open. Damian couldn’t hear the door smack against the wall or see the gun drawn at him, but it was a dramatic entrance.

Not one to shy away from shooting first and asking second, Jason had to quickly restrain his instincts the second he saw the quivering curled up ball. He had come in a few times after a mission that ended badly but he couldn’t think of a time it had been this heavily covered in blood. Slicked across the floor, hands prints dragged along the walls which he had followed further into his apartment. Jason had expected some dumb, injured civilian not the blood bath surrounding the youngest Robin.

“There’s nothing down that end Jay, do you think it was a false al- Jesus.”

Roy was now standing next to him half in the doorway and staring at the bloody scene splayed out before them across the tiled floor. They had been doing this for majority of their lives, yet this was a scene neither of theme expected to see, beside him Roy made a comment about how he could have gone without seeing Damian cry like this. Even though the two had only met a few times, it was clear that his boyfriend had a soft spot for him.

He went to move forward but Jason held him back, shaking his head before moving in himself towards Damian like he was a frightened animal. The analogy didn’t seem far off as Jason carefully and slowly laid his hand on Damian’s shoulder, putting on his most gentle voice to ask what was happening. It was important to find out if he had injuries that needed to be treated but Damian shot up in fear, which only amounted to him hitting his head on the bottom of the sink.

Whatever was going on meant that none of Jason’s words were being heard as he tried to soothe him, the jumpy fear every time Jason tried to put his hands-on Damian made it clear that Damian didn’t know it was him. Shrugging off his jacket and gently wrapping it around Damian who was shivering like a cat who had been caught out in an icy rain. While he expected the jacket to be flung back at him, Jason was hesitantly surprised when Damian brought it tighter around himself.

Currently blind and deaf to the world, Damian ran his fingers along the rough surface of the jacket and smelled a familiar scent which always smelt more like an airy perfume then a typical men’s cologne. It was hard to get his untameable anxiety under control, but it helped him stop shivering so much, his hands moving from where they are curled up in the jacket to reach forward. Jason watched his blind searching before cautiously reaching forward.

As soon as Jason felt Damian’s small fingers hesitantly wrap around his wrist, he was being pulled forward until Damian’s forehead came to rest against his chest. Still struggling to focus his thoughts enough to get a sentence out, it was clear to Jason that Damian just needed to be held so he carefully bundled him up in his arms. Wrapped in his jacket now with his forehead leaning against Jason’s shoulder, he let Jason’s hands roam to search out for any pressing injuries.

“There’s a lot of blood, we need to get him cleaned up to see if its his or somebody else’s.”

He hadn’t heard Roy’s voice sound this serious in a while and it forced him out of his own head, this was no time for him to get overwhelmed with a tiny bleeding mess of a child in his arms. Thanking his boyfriend with a quick kiss in passing for being the voice of reason (for once). Cradling Damian’s head with one hand while the other keeps him securely on his lap, Jason sits down on the toilet to watch as Roy’s fills up the rarely used bathtub.

“I don’t think we have enough of, anything really.”

“Kyle had to check in with the Justice League earlier, he should still be around to help.”

“I can’t just expect my boyfriends to run errands for me.”

“You can’t leave the house with Damian like this, and you know Kyle and I would do anything for you.”

Sometimes it was hard to admit to needing help, but Roy was right, Damian was covered in blood and although he had settled considerably, he was still not completely with them. If Jason leaned right down next to his ear and spoke, the words could finally get through to Damian who let himself be stripped and placed into the bathtub. As he lowered into the water some of the blood came off while some was dry enough to need to be scrubbed.

Leaving the room to phone Kyle about the list of things they needed, Roy left the two of them alone in the bathroom. Once the water had taken off layers of sweat, grime and blood it was then clear enough for Jason to assess possible injuries. Both fortunately and unfortunately there didn’t seem to be any major injuries and especially none that would result in such substantial blood loss, which could only mean it came from someone else.

He had to do almost everything one handed because Damian’s small hands had a tight grip on his wrist once again, wincing as Jason pressed into bruises but still unable to speak. Draining the dirtied water and then refilling the tub, adding the sweet-smelling mix that had been in one of the emptier cabinets, either from when Kory or Roy had stayed here with him. Little petals fell from the box, some of them getting caught in the bubbles that began to froth up. 

With how many bubbles began to tower up in the bath, Damian was almost entirely hidden, and Jason conceded that he might have put too much in, but it smelt nice and he hoped it would be soothing. It seemed to make Damian happy enough who swirled his hands through the water, giggling lightly as Jason placed some bubbles on the tips of his nose. His breathing seemed to be back to normal and although he wasn’t struggling to speak, he finally seemed content with being non-verbal.

Considering he already had the baby bat in the bath, it was quickly decided that he would wash his hair with the strawberry soap he knows for certain came from Roy. Spiking up his hair into little horns while Roy came back into the room, phone held in one of his hands loosely, but he was no longer on call. Staring at the two of them as Jason places roses that hadn’t yet disintegrated into Damian’s hair, unconsciously cooing at how adorable Damian was.

It made sense to let them have their moment because without a doubt the conversation that would come when Damian would speak would be unbearably painful. Kyle had been heating up some noodles for dinner and sitting in front of the television when Roy called and he did feel bad about calling him in, after just getting home. The imagery of the blood and the fear radiating off of Damian made him willing to deal with a grumpy, tired boyfriend.

Although Roy himself had only been around Damian a few times, Kyle wasn’t on earth enough to really meet a lot of the batfamily but from what he had heard, it was surprising to see what he walked in on. Kyle gently placed all the things on the kitchen island, looking over at his boyfriend standing in sweatpants, shirtless and now beginning to make some hot chocolate with a child on his hip. Jason looked the perfect image of a domestic housewife. 

The child on his hip was wearing Jason’s shirt, looked adorable compared to all the stories of him being a little demon. Sticking wet to his forehead, hair down and messier than he usually had it, Damian looked younger than ever with an excited smile on his face. Jason made hot chocolate with whipped cream, and chocolate drizzled over the top, chocolate shavings scattered over the cream. He made grabby hands up at Jason the second he was put down and seemed different to what Roy described.

“Hey baby, sorry for dragging you out here.”

“No worries, the lady at the checkout even gave me a discount because she thought I was cute.”

Rolling his eyes, Roy gave Kyle a kiss as they watched Damian follow Jason into the living room area like a little duckling waddling after its mother. Now Kyle only had to look down the hall in the other direction to see the blood, neither of them had gotten the chance to clean it off of the walls or the floor just quiet yet. It was gory enough to look at those stains that he didn’t want to imagine how bad the bathroom look.

Sparing one last look back at the couches where Jason had sat Damian down to drink his drink, warming up his hands from being out of the bath. Roy had watched Jason walk out with him bundled in a fluffy towel and looked as disapproving as humanly possible, having to explain that Damian would very well get sick if he wasn’t dried properly and left to walk around without clothes. Unfortunately, with all they did have, they didn’t have clothes, so Jason handed over his own shirt.

None of the injuries were life-threatening but Jason went over them all and treated everything properly, being gentle as he moved limbs and placed them in certain positions. Had been some time now since he had taken care of someone else like this, much easier then trying to patch yourself up with a banged-up mirror and unsteady hands. Both of his boyfriends had gone down the hall to clean without even being asked.

Actually, Jason had told Roy not to do it because he felt bad enough, but Roy had pushed him towards the kitchen, telling him not to worry about it and that Kyle was bringing supplies over for a reason while Jason focused on Damian. With all the hard work they were putting in he would have to pamper them, catch Kyle before he flew off world again. For now, however, he had to focus on Damian whose eyes had an unusually bright shining childishness to them.

Even though Damian couldn’t have asked even if he wanted to, Jason had known not to contact Bruce about the situation. Whatever went down had led Damian to his safehouse and not somewhere for the Batman to find him so he would honour the decision to stay hidden for now, respecting Damian’s desire to hide this from his father at least for now. Kneeling in front of Damian to get closer to eye level, he took his attention away from the hot chocolate.

“Do you think you could tell me what happened?”

Shaking his head like a wet puppy trying to dry itself, Jason had to stop himself from laughing at the image lest it be mistaken for something mocking. Mulling it around in his head he decided to try it a unique way using a tactic Dick had used on him growing up. Feeling comfortable talking about issues was difficult enough especially in the Manor where everything felt so bottled up, so Dick would make a pillow fort and explain that it was their safe, judgement free zone to talk.

Being a big brother to Damian had never really been how their relationship worked, they were more familiar and comfortable with being partners out in the field. Using similar tactics learned after training with the League of Assassins, having been through things that no one else would understand which is probably why he came to him to feel safe. Something had happened which Bruce didn’t agree with and had left Damian covered in blood.

“If I build a pillow fort for us to stay in, it could be like our own little world where nothing can hurt you and I promise that you can tell me anything, nothing you say will leave our little world unless you are ready to talk about it again.”

“Promise?”

A little coaxing had Damian letting his first word out in a while, voice small and already a little rough sounding from disuse. Big green eyes staring up at him, holding the cup, with significantly less hot chocolate in it than before, in his hands a little tighter. He thought it over for a few moments before nodding his head an assent, moving closer to the edge of the couch to watch Jason as he started picking up blankets and pillows from around the room. 

Moving into the small bedroom only quickly to grab the rest before returning. The cup was now on the coffee table with Damian curled up around the pillows and blankets, softness lulling him almost to sleep in the few seconds Jason had disappeared for. Extracting him from the pile gently before he began building, listening to all of Damian’s comments and complaints about how it looked, changing things up whenever Damian whined in disagreement.

For anyone else the attitude probably would have resulted in Jason snapping at them, nearly taking their head off with the pillows but he had to be understanding in the moment. It took him a while to get it perfect by Damian’s standards and by then Roy and Kyle were heading off, Roy having offered to drive Kyle back who looked too tired to fly himself back. Kissing them softly and giving them as much attention as he could in thanks before, he was pulled back to Damian.

Sitting there pretending to be disgusted with his tongue sticking out, waving at the men as they left before crawling inside of the fort. Jason followed in suit and was honestly impressed with what he had created, the floor was soft and comfortable that if they didn’t get this talk under way soon, he might fall asleep, himself. It was important though, so he sat himself up, letting Damian dramatically fall across his lap, head resting on Jason’s thigh.

“Can you tell me now.”

As Damian began to speak about the warehouse and the panic, the pain of the memories which still haunted him, Jason started running his fingers through his hair. Listening to him talk about nightmares that had been especially bad at the beginning but still plagued him, quietly and almost reluctantly admitting that he had been to hell and remembered every minute. Jason had tensed up at the soft admission but forced himself to relax. 

Light beginning to filter in through the blankets as he sun rises higher in the sky. Damian a little shaky once again on his lap, tears dribbling down his cheeks as he curls upon himself. Hand grasping at the blanket across the floor like he was seeking support as he explained his feelings, not wanting to disappoint Bruce but not always being in control of himself. It was so much that Jason almost wanted to ask him to stop, hearing all this from someone so young.

Once Damian had stopped speaking, Jason had decided to speak a little from his own experiences in order to possibly comfort and relate to Damian’s own experiences and struggles. Starting way back into his childhood, through his short tenure as Robin and through his death which he felt a little embarrassed to bring up given he had gone to heaven himself and barely recalled it. Talking through everything that had come after, his shortcoming and his successes, emotions, and pain.

By the time they had both talked it through there was a weight lifted from the both of them. For the first time since his childhood Damian had been comfortable enough to raise his hand to his mouth, thumb going into his mouth to soothe him. Jason was surprised but didn’t comment on it, watching as Damian’s eyes got droopy with exhaustion. With all he had been through it wasn’t surprising, but Jason didn’t feel too far behind.

They lay down on the blankets and promise each other to team up more, ignoring how their last encounter had ended because they had both been too raw and vulnerable to handle it appropriately. A promise that they would talk to each other when they needed someone who understood, no matter the time and that they would start hanging out together outside of patrols. When Damian sleeps over Jason’s bed is always filled with soft plushies which he has genuinely come to love.

Damian doesn’t usually reach that level of vulnerability that he had that night with Jason but there are subtly moments where he can check out a little more than usual. Talking in shorter sentences with a higher pitch to his voice, whining when he doesn’t get his way and folding his arms over his chest before he sets off into a tantrum. Cuddling with his plushies on the couch and making Jason order strawberry milk in the shopping.

It’s quite therapeutic for the both of them and having him around more often meant that Kyle and Roy got to known Damian better, teaching him how to play catch and always giving in to Damian’s childish provocations. Damian had even gotten to meet little Lian Harper who Damian had not wanted to let go of, carrying her around everywhere being incredibly gentle despite not being much bigger, colouring in together and being adorable for photos Jason inevitably sends to Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my Twitter ♡](https://twitter.com/alldamianwayne?s=09)


	4. Damian Wayne and Slade Wilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian is finally somewhere that he can fully age regress and safely explore that side of him but it doesn't always go smoothly
> 
> kids tv shows | hide and seek | cuddling with a plushie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter for this fic and I feel like i wanted to do so much more but I wanted this done before 2020 ended and I am unsurprisingly a mess, sorry if it isnt my best!
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this so far and cant wait to see what I bring into 2021 and the ideas people inspire me to explore! even though its a little early Happy New Years and i hope 2021 is easier on you!

Cleaning the bedroom was a nightmare he endured each night, a tedious process repeated over again. A bed pushed to the furthest wall in the room with blankets haphazardly pulled down and one pillow on the floor, the other one where it should be at the head of the bed. Straightening them out then moving down the bed. If Slade spares a moment to think about it as he begins righting each plush toy, he probably would have felt safer in his childhood if he had been surrounded by softness too.

Dismissing the thought as unimportant Slade picks up the bats and the birds, the bunnies and the ducks, the dragons and the cows, and the foxes. Picks them all up and places them where they are close enough to grab if needed but not too close to overcrowd the child while he’s sleeping. Above the side of the bed he moves to take the curtains out of their knots and let them fall back into place, blocking out the sky with its lowering sun and night time animal sounds.

With the room darkening considerably the stars stuck to the roof begin to glow brighter, shining down on him with noticeable gaps where some had fallen and will need to be replaced. On the floor beside the bed and taking up majority of the space within the bedroom is a carpet, a rug that was crafted with nature in mind. A strong mix of dark greens and light greens, mahogany brown and some light cream, cool blues to finish it off.

It would have been expensive had Slade actually bought the thing himself, but it matched the chestnut brown of the bedsheets and the green of his blankets. He had at first been genuinely quite surprised at the choice of decoration in the room, expecting some car themed blankets or at least a rug carpet that was decorated by randomly chosen bright colours. Damian had quietly told him that when he had needed space he would flee into nature whenever he could to connect with it.

Knowing the training Damian would have had to endure in forests and oceans and up mountains it was fairly surprising that any of that could bring him comfort, but he accepted it like any explanation Damian gave him. Fixing the wide windowsill with plants he potted himself, letting Damian name them and right their names along the lip of the pot. Some days he could help water them and tend to them while other days required Slade to take care of it all.

Some days had Damian running around the house in search of something to entertain himself with, pulling Slade along to venture outside for some mischief or burning through at least ten different pages of paper drawing whatever childish things came to mind. Other days had Damian curled up on the couch in front of the television with his thumb in his mouth, eyes a little more distant than Slade is comfortable seeing while whatever show is on serves only as background noise.

He knew what he was getting into when he took Damian in like he did, but it hurt him to see how damaged this child was, his kids had rough childhood but even this didn’t come close – not even his own mess of a childhood held any weight. Joey had tried to be there for Damian after Slade died but things turned ugly quickly for the Wilson family and his kids were forced to make decisions, then Jason came into the picture.

Jason had more time to dedicate to Damian but none of the experience, on days where paranoia would eat at Damian and cause him to act out. Pull himself up too quickly and lash out in confusion and anger, fleeing the house and his brother with his mind still reeling from the change. There was nothing Jason could do to look out for Damian and eventually Damian drifted apart from his entire family, although he didn’t know why yet, he knew Damian had felt cast aside.

There was nobody capable of taking care of Damian besides Slade, no one else had been able to let Damian reach the point of actually being completely vulnerable without the anxiety and paranoia. A few stolen moments with others doesn’t compare to the days Damian can be under when he trusts Slade to take care of him. Completely giving over a part of himself to be trusted with Slade so that Damian can finally let himself escape.

Back when he had first come back from the dead, buying this house on the outskirts of a forest seemed like the best way to give his children time away from him. They went through so much and even Slade knew when to tone it down and give them time. Addie also needed time to work through her husbands near death experience at the hands of an alternate reality version of her ex-husband and Wintergreen has needed a moment away from Slade’s nonsense for decades.

The solitude was eating at him though because as considerate as he was trying to be for once, Slade did not function well when left to his own thoughts and his own devices, he had relied on an AI version of Wintergreen for company for so long for God’s sake. However, the second Damian showed up however, his small hands clutching at the front of his uniform with a flushed red look on his face asking for help, everything changed.

Not a doubt in Slade’s mind that he had messed up with how he raised Grant, Joey, and Rose but it had been so hard for him for so long to set aside his issues and actually focus on his children. Damian came to him and presented an opportunity for him to not irreversible mess something up for once and it made him oddly content. It’s why Slade doesn’t actually mind too much as he cleans all of the toys up off the rug, this routine was good.

With everything finally cleaned up for the day Slade ventures back out into the main room to check on Damian who is still glued to the television, bright colours flashing across the screen filling his eyes with vibrant shapes. Slade had gone to complain about the nonsense Damian seemed intent on filling his brain with, but he had easily given in, the only compromise being that he wouldn’t watch Dora the Explorer with Damian because it made him feel genuinely crazy.

“Come on now, bed time.”

Shaking his head vigorously and clutching the dog, Damian tried to sink further into the couch as if that was going to stop Slade from scooping him up easily. While he tried to whine about it being early and how he didn’t want to sleep yet, he was carried with little to no fuss besides that, giving up as the tiredness began to set in. Slade had been pretty strict with keeping a decent sleep schedule because otherwise Damian tends to get more grumpy than reasonable.

It sometimes sends him reeling thinking about the hardened fighter that lays past this childishness, the child who had been moulded into an unrelenting blood thirsty killer and was now so much more than what he was created to be. With so much of his childhood missing and marred with trauma and bad memories, Slade hadn’t been surprised by Damian’s tendencies to slip into a more childish mindset even when Damian hadn’t been completely aware.

“Mmm not sleepy, papa”

“Sweetheart, your eyes aren’t even open right now.”

Laying down on his bed with a Pompompurin plush almost half the side of him, Damian was intent on pleading his case while his body fought against him. Eyes closed and body almost completely relaxed, still trying to tell Slade he wasn’t tired despite his small voice and sleepily slurred speech. Rolling his eyes and sitting on the side of the bed, hand resting on Damian until he finally gives up and falls asleep, only then does Slade leave the bedroom.

“You cheeky little.”

Instead of finishing the thought Slade just bends down and begins cleaning the mess Damian created out in the main room. They had a toy room specifically for Damian to play in but he didn’t like being in there so they came to another compromise that he could play with the toys in his bedroom but not out in the main rooms. Yet somehow Damian always manages to sneak them past him and leave them scattered everywhere they shouldn’t be.

When he was constantly working, it was actually pretty rare for Slade to get a full night’s sleep because he was either working through the night, thinking about plans for completing contracts he has accepted or falling into some persons bed for the night. Now he could actually get a few decent hours in after cleaning up the house before Damian comes running at his bed, full speed as his vaults himself up and directly onto Slade as if he wasn’t awake the second, he sensed Damian approach the door.

“Make ‘cakes, papa make ‘cake?”

“I can make you pancakes.”

This time holding a Kuromi plush under his arm, Damian flops down on top of Slade, smiling at the prospect of pancakes. Laying there babbling to himself about something, while Slade contemplates whether getting up right now to make pancakes for Damian will seem like a good reason for moving Damian off of him, when the inevitable whining starts. Thankfully the decision is made for him when Damian shoots back up, remembering pancakes and heading off towards the kitchen.

One thing that hasn’t really changed is Damian’s desire to feel tall and included, so as Slade stands over the stove in sweatpants and an apron next to him is Damian standing on top of a stool to make him tall enough to watch. Sprinkling in chocolate chips into some of the batter, watching almost mesmerized as Slade spreads it out and cooks it perfectly even on the first try. Wide eyes open in awe, happily clapping every time Slade drops another one onto the plate.

“Addie probably would have preferred if I had taken on the role of domestic housewife.”

“Mmm, papa miss aunty Addie?”

“Sometimes I miss aunty Addie, I don’t miss her nagging though.”

Damian vocabulary can range and so can how verbal he is, so Slade had gotten fairly used to voicing his own thoughts out loud just to fill some of the empty space, most of the time its to bring up his family. As a result, Damian has picked up their names and refers to Addie as Aunty Addie and Wintergreen as Uncle Billy which Slade can’t wait to have him say to the man himself, he hates the nickname but there is no way he could get annoyed at Damian for it.

Carefully helping himself down from the stool one handed while the other is occupied by Kuromi, he then toddles off to the dining room table as Slade walks over with the breakfast. Most of the house is an open floor plan with the kitchen, dining room and front lounge room all occupying the same space which makes it easier to keep an eye on the mischievous little child. Floor to ceiling glass let the natural light of the morning filter in as the sun rises.

Animals start making their usual annoying noises, but he does his best to block them out, helping Damian into his chair and serving up his pancakes. Still warm from the stove top and now covered in sauce, it takes Damian roughly thirty full seconds to start getting messy and sticky which inevitably leads him to getting whiny. Chocolate somehow smeared across his cheek and over his lips, hands syrupy and sticky as puts them together and brings them apart.

“Yucky papa.”

“Grant was a messier eater, yet he still doesn’t compare to you and the messes you make.”

Picking Damian up had became instinct at this point, at first Damian would get a little startled but he had gotten used to it and would even sometimes whine until Slade would pick him up, if Slade was anyone else it might have been a little harder to carry around a child this grown. Walking them into the bathroom and setting up the bath with calming scents and bubble bath that never fails to get absolutely everywhere in the bathroom.

Sitting in the bath with his little duckie in hand, spraying water at the little Froggie on the side of the bath until it slips and clatters to the bathroom floor. As predicted, the bubbles had already began slipping over the side of the bath and had even found their way into Damian’s hair. While Damian is occupied in the bath, having been cleaned and now just enjoying playing with his toys, Slade starts his own morning routine by shaving his face.

Using a traditional razor, Slade carefully works it across his skin with a precision that he has honed after doing this for decades now. Halfway done with his shave and Damian’s attention had slipped from his toys to what Slade was doing, whining, and making grabby hands until Slade gave in and lifted him out of the bath. Wrapping him in a fluffy towel with a hood that dips over his face and hoisting him onto the counter.

Now sitting beside where Slade is leaning against the counter, attention back onto his task of shaving his face while Damian just watches on in awe. He doesn’t usually come into the bathroom while Slade does this but when he does, he looks absolutely rapt, all of his attention focused on the technique and mesmerized at what it is doing to Slade. One time he had picked up the blade and cut his fingers with it when Slade had him out of his sights for only a moment.

There had been a second of silence between Damian’s initial yelp of pain and Slade rushing into the room before Damian had burst into tears, thankfully there hadn’t been too much blood and the cut wasn’t deep, but it had frightened Damian. Now any sharp objects even in the bathroom were kept up on high shelves which Damian couldn’t hope of reaching, knowing better than to try climb up onto surfaces to reach things without Slade around.

Cleaned up with their teeth brushed, Damian lets himself be dressed in little brown shorts with suspenders holding them up. A neat button up shirt tucked into his shorts and a pair of practical shoes put on his feet. Slade had genuinely been surprised at first to learn that Damian couldn’t tie his own shoelaces, not only when he was regressed into a more childish mind set but even when he was acting as his usual thirteen-year-old self, he couldn’t tie shoelaces.

Although Slade had put time aside to teaching Damian how to tie shoelaces, he had stuck mostly to slip on and Velcro shoes for Damian. They had plans to spend the day venturing into the forest which meant Slade had to pack food for them, mostly for Damian who delighted in having snacks on hand at almost any time during the day. Damian slipped back into his own bedroom, sitting at his desk to do some drawings while he patiently waited for Slade to be done.

Following him into the bedroom not long after Slade has to take a deep breath upon seeing Damian had already torn apart his bedroom, blankets back to their usual state of being thrown out of place, plush toys haphazardly left everywhere. Toys Slade knows Damian didn’t have time enough to play with today already spread out messily across the rug and sitting at his desk Damian has markers and crayons scattered across the surface.

“You ready to go out?”

Legs swinging from the chair because he can’t reach the floor suddenly stop and his head shoots around to face Slade, an excited grin spreading across his face as he rushes down from the chair and out of his room past Slade. It was meant to be a sunny day today as opposed to the few days before which had felt dark with rain threatening at the edges of the weather, now there were no clouds in the sky and the air felt warm.

At first, he hadn’t completely understood Damian’s positive connection with nature but coming out here with him had made him slowly begin to understand. The sound of running water coming from nearby and large trees looming over a hidden path, shading them from too much heat, animals running from tree branch to tree branch. It would have just been another thing Slade passed through in his quick paced life, but now he chose to appreciate it.

Cool breeze that filtered through the trees, keeping the heat from being overbearing and cool soil sticking to Damian’s feet after it had taken him about five minutes into their walk before he took his shoes off and handed them over for Slade to carry. Along with the plush which Damian hadn’t wanted to get dirty but was intent on bringing with them anyway, if Slade wasn’t confident in how secure and secluded, they were he would worry about having his hands full.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to get dirty like that.”

One of his new ventures was learning how to climb trees which hadn’t been going well for him this far, always ending up falling on his ass one way or another with a pout on his lips and a frown creasing his eyebrows. He was motivated to master it but his hands and his brain don’t always work in his favour and he never manages to get very high, it is incredibly adorable to watch unless he hurts himself and Slade has to listen to him whine while Slade reminds him he warned him about the risks.

“Not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“Papa can climb trees.”

“Had to get your kite down somehow sweetheart.”

If the more pronounced pout he got in return meant anything it was that his answer apparently wasn’t good enough and getting Damian’s kite down after he had cried over it wasn’t a good excuse. Puppy dog eyes not working on him as Slade throws him over his shoulder, feeling Damian’s fight deflate as his attention is drawn to the basket of food he tries to reach into and grab. Cursing his short arms for not being able to reach.

The second Slade put the basket down and Damian with it, he was already face first into the basket looking through the selection of food Slade had put together. Although he hadn’t done it much to help Addie out around the house like he should have, Slade was an excellent cook when he put his mind to it and wasn’t being lazy. Most of his years had been spent getting take out or having people cook for him at restaurants but now he had to be different.

While making sure Damian ate regular meals that were healthy for him, Slade ended up feeding himself a diet that was far better than anything he had committed to at any stage in his life. Even though he was the one making them, eating home cooked meals felt some kind of special especially watching Damian light up at the sight of them. Sandwich already shoved into his mouth by the time Slade slid down a tree to sit down.

“Settle down sweetheart, if you don’t slow down you might choke.”

“Mmm, papa make yummy food!”

“Yummy food that isn’t going anywhere even if you slow down.”

Frowning, Damian reluctantly slowed down and started savouring the taste of the food instead of shovelling it all into his mouth as quickly as possible. Smiling as he pops little pieces of chocolate into his mouth before Slade can complain about eating savoury foods before moving onto the sweets. Its not something they have done in a while so Slade tries not to complain too much, focusing on drinking his coffee while it’s still warm.

The amount of times Damian has drawn Slade’s attention away from his drink or food long enough for it to turn from hot food to cold food drives him crazy, its almost like kids have a special sense for inconveniencing adults. Reminding Damian not to go to far away out of Slade’s sights, Damian runs off to go have fun while Slade takes a moment to himself. Damian trying to climb more trees the second he isn’t in Slade’s direct line of sight.

Playing until he gets bored of being all by himself and then he drags Slade into a game of hide and seek, a game Slade particularly excels at given what his job entailed but he holds back to make it fun for Damian. Although most of what Damian is usually like goes away when he is in this state, habits and traits can still shine through at times like right now as Slade genuinely starts to worry about being able to find where Damian has hidden himself.

He managed to slip away from his father and disappear so Slade has no doubts that Damian could accidently lose himself in the woods away from Slade, a nagging desire to hurry up and find him dies down as Damian trips over himself and falls into Slade’s line of sight. Thankfully those habits tend to come and go quicker than they could become serious problems, Slade calling it a day after that and bringing the two of them back home.

“Did you have a good day?”

“Mmm, I saw a bee, it was good.”

“A bee?”

“Bee, they go buzz, right papa?”

Utterly lost at how that could possibly be a stand out moment for today but ultimately accepting it and confirming that they do indeed go buzz after Damian wouldn’t stop pestering him about it. They go through the rest of their routine with dinner and Damian having some downtime before bed, of which he managed to have only a few minutes of before he fell asleep on the couch. Thumb in his mouth and curled up in on himself, clutching the front of his pyjamas. 

Lifting him up and bringing him back into his now newly cleaned bedroom, Slade lays him down and tucks him beneath the covers in a way that he finds comforting but not too restrictive. Damian tends to wiggle and move a lot in his sleep so when his blanket stops him, he tends to wake up in a panic, it was one of many lessons that Slade had learnt the hard way. Rushing into the room and having to comfort a hysterical Damian, confused and disorientated.

Sleep is probably the hardest thing for Slade to monitor and control for Damian, the one place where he is the most vulnerable to whatever his mind decides to do to him. How deep into his age regression he is the next morning usually depends on what happens during his sleep, the kinds of dreams that plague him and how safe he feels. Good mornings and bad mornings can be fairly unpredictable, and Slade always goes to sleep hoping for one over the other.

The wish for the night to go well isn’t entirely for selfish reasons, he knows what it does to Damian when he wakes up feeling lost and insecure. Needing help but unaware of how to ask for it when he isn’t in the mindset of a child, the child he believes people want to help unlike in his usual state where he believes nobody wants anything to do with him. Confusion and disorientation can turn into anger and that Slade knows how to handle, but when it goes another way.

Much like later that night when Slade wakes up to a presence lingering at his doorway, despite how dark the room is he can make out the shape and the size of the person. Relaxing and moving to sit up on his elbows, blanket slipping down as he invites Damian to come further into the room. Usually this is when Damian will come bounding in if its no big deal or when he will waddle in embarrassed because of an accident of some sort.

Neither happened as Damian continued to stand in the doorway, holding the outstretched hand of one of his plushies and gripping the doorframe with his other hand. Something was off and Slade was sitting up properly without hesitation with one leg off of the bed before he could even think, Damian flinches at the sudden movement and Slade stops. Trying to gauge what is happening in the darkness, taking in everything happening in front of him.

“What’s wrong?”

There were few times during their interactions where silence was purposeful, where Damian was choosing not to speak instead of it being apart of how he was that day. It was slowly dawning on him that this was one of those moments where Damian had triggered himself into coming up and he didn’t know how to act. Just as much as Slade was reading Damian right now, Damian was across from him doing the exact same thing.

“No matter what you need Damian, I am here for you.”

“I’m not… I’m not like that right now, I can’t expect you to- you don’t need to baby me like this.”

“Damian. Whether you’ve regressed so far that you need to rely on me for everything or whether you are completely up and aware of yourself, you are still you. Caring about you doesn’t abruptly stop when you come back up, helping only a portion of you would make no sense because I love you Damian not only the part of you that you think deserves to be loved.”

He is prideful and headstrong, confident in his abilities and a born leader but even Damian who carries the entire world on his shoulders needs to be reminded that he is loved, that he is cared for. He finds it easy to give over parts of himself when he is less like his usual self, but when he is completely in control he struggles to justify asking for help and needed attention just as much. His brain can try to convince him otherwise, but Slade is there to remind him.

“I’m sorry.”

Shoulders shaking as he fails to hold in his tears, crying as he slowly walks over to the bed and throws himself down on top of it. Slade pulling him up to curl against his chest, the plush held tightly against Damian as he cries into it. They promise to talk about it more tomorrow depending on how Damian is feeling but for now Slade cuddles Damian and the plushie to his chest, hand moving through Damian’s hair to try to calm him down and lull him back to sleep.

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Pressed against Slade’s chest, Damian’s response is almost entirely inaudible, but Slade hears the ‘I love you’ as clear as day and smiles to himself. Damian’s thumb moving up to his mouth unconsciously as he starts to feel himself fade off into sleep, curled up and snuggled under the covers when Slade throws it over them both. It’s not always easy but Slade will take care of Damian until he doesn’t need it anymore and then maybe a little bit longer after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my Twitter ♡](https://twitter.com/alldamianwayne?s=09)


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